I Loved Him 3,000
by Nimrodel 101
Summary: Ten years after his sacrifice, teenager Morgan Stark still grieves for her father.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: If you have not seen AVENGERS: ENDGAME, read no further. MAJOR SPOILER WARNING. Read at your own risk. Reviews, comments, P/Ms, and constructive criticism are very welcome and appreciated.**

**Disclaimer: With the exception of my own original characters, no characters belong to me. Marvel owns them all.**

* * *

When my alarm clock went off, I quickly silenced it. I did not want to get up today. I rolled over to face the wall, avoiding the world, safe in my cocoon of blankets. I would not get up today. Not today.

My phone buzzed. Someone had just called me. Probably a friend who didn't understand asking me what I was doing to celebrate today. They didn't know that today is not a day worth celebrating. Not to me. Not to my mom, either. Or Happy, or Rhodey, or Peter, or Harley. Or most of the Avengers.

Ten years ago my father died saving the world. I felt hot tears slid down my cheeks as I reflected on that. It was the worst day of my life.

My phone buzzed again. I decided to answer it just to shut that infernal thing off so I could wallow in peace.

"Hello?" I asked blearily. "Hi Morgan," said the girl on the other end. It was Stacey, a girl in my robotics club. She was nice, but we didn't really talk that much. "Could you come over to help me with my robot today? I don't really understand how to code it. I know it's a holiday, but I really want to get this done. Do you mind?" I sat up, rubbing my hand over my tired eyes. "Yeah, sure. I think I could probably spare some time."

"Great. When can you come? I'm available until 4, then my family is going to a Day of Return picnic."

"I can be there in an hour."

"Okay, great! See you then!" she said cheerfully. Almost too cheerfully for my sullen mood. "'Bye," I replied, laying back down in bed.

I supposed there were worse ways to spend this day of days.

I rolled until I had rolled out of bed, then stood up and grabbed some clothes to change into. I opted for my favorite pair of jeans and an oversized Iron Man sweatshirt. I figured it was a good way to honor and remember my dad on that day.

I wandered down to the kitchen to get some breakfast and found my mom already down, an untouched mug of tea in her hand.

"Morning, mom," I said, hoping I didn't scare her. She jumped a little and then replied, "Morning sweetheart."

I noticed that she was fingering her favorite necklace. It had a heart-shaped jewel and the shrapnel that used to be in my dad's chest, next to his heart.

"How did you sleep?" she asked, plastering a fake smile on her face. "Fine," I replied.

"Well-"

"Mom. You don't have to do that. I know what today is. It hurts me too."

She sighed, "I wish he were here. I wish he could see you now." "I know," I said, hugging her, "but he died a hero. He saved thousands of people. That's how he should be remembered. With love." "With love," she repeated, a ghost of a smile playing on her lips.

"Mom, I have to go to Stacey's to help her with her robot today. Why don't you ask Rhodey or Happy over today to exchange stories about dad? Today hurts them too."

"I like that idea, thank you sweetheart," she said with a real smile this time as she tucked a stray hair behind my ear.

"You have your father's desire to solve problems. He always wanted to fix everything. Especially for me."

"I love you, mom," I said, hugging her. "I love you, too Morguna."


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: If you have not seen AVENGERS: ENDGAME, read no further. MAJOR SPOILER WARNING. Read at your own risk. Reviews, comments, P/Ms, and constructive criticism are very welcome and appreciated.**

**Disclaimer: With the exception of my own original characters, no characters belong to me. Marvel owns them all.**

* * *

I rode my bike to Stacey's. I could have asked my mom or Happy to drive me, but I didn't want to bother them today.

Stacey was waiting for me right inside her door. I didn't even get the chance to knock.

"Hi Morgan!" She said cheerfully as she started pulling me into the house and down to the basement. "I normally work down here," she said shyly, "my brothers have mostly taken it over, but there's still some room for us."

"No, that's fine," I said dismissively, not really caring all that much. "Where would you like to start?" I asked, just wanting to get started quickly so I could go home and bury myself in my blankets.

"Well the code has been rather finicky," she explained. And her code _was_ finicky. So finicky in fact that it took a while to explain it to her and even longer to fix it.

But I enjoyed myself. Stacey was a nice person to be around. Between my explanations and her tinkering, she told me stories of her family, her friends and random experiences she'd had. It was nice. I enjoyed listening to another person's stories which were so unlike my own and so unlike anything I had experienced. They were so _normal_.

And suddenly, she stopped talking. "What about you?" She asked, likely repeating herself.

"What? Oh, I'm sorry. I guess I just spaced out. What was your question?"

"I asked what you usually do to celebrate the Day of Return," she said, an understanding smile on her face. Wow. She didn't know.

It wasn't like I _expected_ her to know. The world didn't revolve around me, after all. Okay, maybe I _did_ expect her to know. Sometimes I felt like the words "Morgan Stark, daughter of Tony Stark, who sacrificed his life for the entire universe" were stamped on my forehead.

"Uh, actually my family doesn't celebrate the Day of Return."

"Why not? _Everyone_ celebrates the Day of Return!" she replied, a confused smile on her face.

"Uh, my family doesn't," I replied, unsure of what else to say. I didn't feel comfortable with this line of questioning. Everybody in my world were either close friends who knew my dad and didn't ask such questions, or were news reporters who were overly nosey about the issue. Nobody just _didn't_ know. This made explaining myself awkward.

"My dad actually died on the Day of Return, so we don't celebrate it," I told her, my voice wavering a little.

"Oh. I'm so sorry," she said, eyes cast down. "May I ask how he died?" Wow. She _really_ didn't know. Now I was _really_ surprised, and it must have shown in my face, because she quickly said, "You don't have to tell me if you don't want to! That must have been horrible, losing your dad, especially on a holiday!"

"No, no it's okay," I replied quickly, not wanting the conversation to get more awkward than it was already going to be.

"You just don't understand-"

"Yes, I do. I should have been more sensitive to your feelings."

"No, I'm comfortable telling you, I've just never done it before and I need to explain a few things."

"Okay," she said, a confused look on her face.

"What you need to understand is that he didn't just die on the Day of Return, he died on _the_ Day of Return. Like, the original one."

Understanding quickly filled her face. "Was he next to the battle or in an explosion, or something?"

I must have looked surprised, because she looked at her lap and said, "Sorry. Please continue."

"Okay," I said quietly. "No, he wasn't next to the battle, or in an explosion. He was in the heart of the battle. In the end, it came down to just him and Thanos. He beat Thanos in getting to the Infinity Stones, and when he did, he snapped his fingers and erased all the bad guys from existence. My father saved the universe that day. But the snap that saved the universe also killed him. Because my dad was Tony Stark. My dad was Iron Man."


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Thank you everyone for your patience. I really appreciate it. This was a difficult chapter to write as I had no idea where I was going with this story when I started it and posted the first two chapters. Now I know where it's going and have even written the final chapter! This story will be approximately 6 chapters long. Thanks again and enjoy!**

* * *

Elementary school was difficult for me. Not the subjects, those were easy. Especially math and science, which I love.

The hard part was talking to people. My first day of kindergarten was several months after my dad died. I remember not wanting to go. I remember crying on the way there and being upset until my mom finally got me into the classroom. After a while, she told me that she would take me home, but the teacher distracted me with a plastic marble maze set. She showed me how to build it and how to make the marbles go down the little slides. I was intrigued. I played with that toy for a week. After that, I got bored and upset until my teacher found a robot toy for me to build. That toy lasted for two weeks.

The rest of elementary school was like this. I usually was the quiet kid in the back of the classroom, building advanced robots, doing math for fun, and avoiding my peers.

Junior high was the same. I learned how to have short, polite conversations with other people so that they wouldn't think I was too weird. After all, I had started high school level math and sciences in fifth grade. But for all my smarts, all my genius, I couldn't really talk to my peers.

So when Stacey wanted to know how my dad died, I was shocked that she was even interested. The only people I had had personal conversations with were my mom, Happy, and Peter.

Stacey's reaction to "My dad was Iron Man," surprised me. She just gave me a small, little smile and said, "Well that's why you're so smart. Tony Stark was your dad."

Just then, a boy with dark hair poked his head into the room. "Stacey, mom wants you to help set up for the picnic. She said people will start to come in twenty minutes."

"Oh, whoops! Sorry Morgan, I lost track of time! Do you want to stay for the picnic?"

I felt my mouth drop open. I was speechless.

"Of course you don't have to, I just thought if you're not really doing anything else today." she stammered, trying to recover.

I thought about it, I really did. "Okay," I replied, shrugging. I supposed my mom would have Happy or Rhodey to keep her company, and I didn't really want to go home to cry just yet.

"Great!" Stacey said, standing up. "We can go help my mom set up, and later you can meet my cousins."

"Great," I repeated, suddenly shy. Ever since my dad's funeral I haven't been great around crowds of people.

I followed Stacey up the stairs and out into her backyard where five or so picnic tables were set up. A matronly woman with long, dark hair was spreading tablecloths onto them.

"Oh, good Stacey you're here," she said, smiling, "Is you friend staying?" "Yeah," Stacey replied, "Mom, the is my friend Morgan. Morgan, this is my mom." "Good to meet you, Morgan. We're glad to have you."

"Thank you," I replied shyly. I had never been great at meeting new people.

Shortly after, Stacey's cousins, aunts, uncles and various other people began to arrive. She introduced me to each one. Not as Morgan Stark, whose father died tragically to save the universe. No, to them I was simply her friend. And that was enough for them to accept me. I was enough.

After everyone was gathered at the tables to eat, Stacey's dad stood up and asked everyone to say whether they blipped or not and one thing they were thankful for.

I found this surprising and very touching. Many people mentioned the Avengers, who to them were simply the heroes that un-blipped everyone. And some were even thankful for my father. My eyes got suspiciously moist at every mention of his name.

I stayed at that beautiful celebration of life for much longer than I intended. I had enjoyed myself, but I couldn't help but feel guilty for not spending the day with my mom.

I walked up to Stacey to say goodbye, but she was busy. Her dad had her wrapped in a bear hug and was kissing the top of his head.

The sight of them together, happy, and whole tore me apart inside. How dare this family be so happy and whole when I was falling apart!

I rode home a hot mess. I needed to get out of there, to get away, as fast as I could, before I started crying.

How could he have done it? How could he have left me?

I needed my dad. So, so very much. My heart ached every time I thought of him, and sometimes the very thought of him made me explode with anger. How could he have done it? How could he have left me? I needed him. My mom needed him. There were so many times in my childhood when I needed his strong arms to protect me, his soft words to comfort me, and his gentle hands to wipe my tears away.

So I rode. I road my bike back home with so much anger and rage and so many tears falling from my eyes that I didn't see the bump in the dirt road until it was too late and I was flying into the ditch.

* * *

**A/N:** To my dear readers: I know you're out there. I'd love it if you'd drop me a line. For those of you who've never written a story, writing is a long and grueling process. Stories take time to completely form in the writer's head, even longer to get physically written down, and even longer to be edited (which I do 3-10 times before publishing a chapter). I've been writing a novel for 5 years now and it is only still in its infancy. In other words, if you have taken the 10 minutes to read the work that took me days (sometimes weeks and even months) to come up with, write down, and revise for you, I would like to know what you thought of it. If you loved it, I want to hear it. If you hated it, I want to hear it. If you're somewhere in between, I want to hear it. Your feedback helps inspire me to continue. And if I don't update for a while, please be patient and stick with me. Stories take time. If you've already reviewed (a BIG shoutout to **JAG'ed Bones in the Casckett, mercedesalonso2004 **and **Carolyandunicorns**), THANK YOU so very, very much!


	4. Chapter 4

_"__Ouch!"_ I moaned, gripping my ankle. It hurt so badly. My ankle was twisted, and my left knee and elbow were bleeding.

I reached into the pocket of my jeans, only to find my phone screen cracked and my power at 8%. What a way to add insult to injury, especially after the day I'd had!

I saw bright lights from a car coming down the street. "Morgan?" I heard a familiar voice calling my name.

"Morgan?"

"I'm right here!" I responded.

"Are you alright?" I looked up to see my big brother leaning over me.

"No," I said, my lower lip trembling, more tears escaping my eyes.

Peter sat next to me in the dirt, pulling me in for a hug.

After letting me cry until I had no more tears, he said, "I know today is hard, that you feel like you're all alone, but you're not. I've got you. We've all got you. You're not alone in this."

"I know, but it's just so hard, it feels like he abandoned me here."

"Look at me," he said, gently brushing my hair out of my face.

I looked up to meet those deep, soul-filled eyes.

"Your dad loved you with all his heart. He died so that you could live, so the the universe could live. I'm sure if you were the only person in the universe, he still would have done what he did so that you could live."

"Does that help?" he asked quietly.

"A little bit," I nodded.

"Good," he answered, smiling a little bit, "and I totally get how you're feeling. I'm the world's leading expert on losing parents. Trust me, I've lost four of them," he said with a little laugh, attempting to lighten the mood.

"Does it get any easier?"

"Honestly?" he said, smiling a little.

I nodded, wiping my nose on my sleeve.

"No. Some days are better than others. Sometimes I forget that they're even gone, and I want to tell Tony or Ben something about my day, and then I remember that they're gone, and it gets harder. Days like today are the worst."

"What do you do?"

"I try to remember that it wasn't my fault. That they loved me and they wouldn't have left if they had had the choice. It took me a long time to realize that I was angry at them, especially Ben and Tony, for leaving. I realized that I had to forgive them and be at peace with their loss so that I could continue to live my life."

"Did it help?" I asked, my lower lip quivering.

"A little," he said, taking a deep breath, "How about we take you to the E.R.?"

"Why?" I asked, brows lowering.

He gave the slightest smile, "Because you fell off your bike and that ankle looks like it hurts."

"What about M.J.?" I asked.

"Don't worry, she's not going to pop today, and she'll call me if she does," he answered, shyly fingering the ring on his left hand.

I smiled a little. I couldn't wait to be an aunt. Talking about the baby always made me happier.

"Okay," I nodded.

He reached down and carried me into the front seat of his car bridal style.

"Why don't you call your mom while I drive? I'm sure she's worried."

I made a face. "I don't even know if she knows if I left the party. Anyways, when I tell her, she'll just say I was being impulsive like Dad."

Peter laughed. "I'm sure she will! Tony was kind of impulsive when I met him, but I'm sure he was worse before I knew him. Your mom tamed him quite a bit. You should ask Happy or Rhodey to tell you some stories about his younger days, though. Apparently he was a menace."

I smiled a little, my heart feeling a little of the heavy weight that had been on it all day come off of it. Maybe this was what I had needed. Someone to talk to about my dad who knew him too. Someone who understood. Like my brother.


	5. Chapter 5

"Benjamin Anthony for a boy," Peter said, smiling as he drove along the farm-surrounded highway under the cloak of night.

"And for a girl?" I asked, smiling. The change in conversation had been his idea. He knew talking about the baby would take my mind off of our shared troubles, at least temporarily.

"May Hope."

I smiled a little, then I felt myself get sad again.

"Do you ever wish that your uncle could be here to see you as a father? That your parents or my dad could?"

Peter sighed. "All the time."

I looked at him. "What do you do?"

"I just hope that they're looking down at me from a better place. And I hope that they'd be proud of me and of who I've become."

I stared straight ahead, tears stinging my eyes.

"What about you?" he asked quietly.

"I don't know," I whispered softly, not sure how to say all that I was feeling.

"When you think about him, what do you feel?" he asked, turning a little as he said it.

I sighed deeply, tears pricking my eyes again. "I feel angry, and sad, and maybe a little resentful."

"Why do you suppose you feel that way?" he asked gently.

I turned to face him a little. "I think because he left me. I know he died to save the universe, but I just can't help but feel betrayed. Does that make me awful?" I asked, tears flowing freely.

Peter pulled the car over and turned to face me.

"It doesn't make you awful, Morguna. It makes you human. You want your dad in your life. I get it. It's difficult to not want that, especially with how close you guys were. I know I felt that way when my Uncle Ben died. But you have to forgive him."

"Forgive him?" I asked, leaning forward.

"I know you feel betrayed. I felt betrayed and angry after Ben died. It made me mad. But that didn't get me anywhere."

"How did he die?"

Peter sighed, and looked out the front window.

"We were walking home from the corner store and there was a burglar who had just robbed a nearby grocery store. A lady got in his way and Ben stepped in front of her so the burglar wouldn't shoot her. He shot Ben instead."

I gasped a little.

Peter nodded. "I know he died a hero. He saved someone's life. But I can't help but think sometimes that he left me and feel betrayed because of it."

"How did you forgive him?"

Peter sighed again. "It wasn't easy. I tried and failed many times, but eventually I did it. I just made a conscious decision to make my peace with him. I told him I loved him and that I understood why he did it. And now whenever I find myself getting mad, I just remember that I made my peace with him and I find that instead of being mad, I begin to celebrate the time we had together instead of mourning all the time we lost."

I nodded, deep in thought. My mind didn't even register that Peter started driving again. He had given me a lot to think about.


	6. Chapter 6

My mom was waiting for us when Peter and I pulled up to the ER.

"Are you okay?" she asked, running towards us.

"I'm fine, mom. Just a little bruised."

Peter opened my door for me and picked me up. "She's more than just a little bruised, Pepper. I'm pretty sure her ankle is sprained."

"What happened?" Mom asked as we all moved into the waiting room.

"I hit a bump in the road as I was riding my bike back."

"Are you okay other than the ankle? Your eyes are red."

I sighed, not ready to answer.

Peter answered for me.

"It's just the day, Pepper."

She nodded, biting her lip. She didn't say anything more. We all felt the absence of someone who should have been there.

—

"Are you sure you're okay?" My mom asked for what seemed like the millionth time on the drive back to the cabin.

"I'm fine," I said, stretching my leg. It was sprained and I had been given a brace and some crutches. The doctor had said that it would be better in a month and to stay off of it.

"Are you sure? Because if you're not…."

"Mom."

She glanced at me, worry lines creasing her forehead.

"I'm not okay now, but I will be."

"Okay," she replied, nodding.

—

As soon as we got back, I limped out to the dock. My mom let me go. She knew I needed my space.

I sat down on it, letting the cool breeze calm me.

I took a deep breath, thinking of how much this lake reminded me of my dad.

I remembered the fishing trips we had taken together, how he taught me how to bait the hook and cast the line.

I remembered how he took me swimming and once saved me from drowning. I had been scared, but knew that I was safe. He kept me safe.

I remembered the endless amounts of forts and tents we had built together on this lake's shore.

I remembered the sandcastles we built and how he taught me how to make them so they wouldn't fall down quickly.

I remembered how I stood on this dock with my mom at his funeral, not yet understanding that my dad was never coming home.

"I don't actually know if I'm ready to forgive you, Dad," I whispered into the darkness.

I looked up at the stars and felt the waves hit the posts holding the dock up.

"I forgive you, Dad," I whispered into the air, starlight on my face.

"I forgive you," I repeated, feeling warm waves of peace penetrating to my very soul.

I blinked, and suddenly I was no longer sitting on the dock by the lake. Suddenly, I was standing beside the lake, my ankle not in pain.

I was next to the last little tent my dad built with me when I was four. I hadn't played in it in years, at least not since before he died.

"Morgan?" a voice asked, some distance behind me. A voice I had not heard in ten years. A voice I thought I would never hear again.

"Dad?" I whispered, turning around, and there he was. His hair was graying and messy and his eyes were tired and sad, but he was there. He was alive.

"Oh Dad!" We ran towards each other, until we met each other in the strongest hug we had each ever given.

"Morgan? What are you doing here? Where are we?"

"I don't know," I replied, smiling.

"You're so big," he said, a small, quiet smile on his face.

I gently touched his cheek and he pushed my hair out of my face like he did when I was little.

"I forgive you, Dad. I love you so much."

He smiled, just like he did when I was little, on that fateful night when he decided what he needed to do for the universe.

"I love you 3,000," he said. And then I was back on the dock, the peace of forgiveness and acceptance sweeping over my heart.

For I now knew that even though he was gone, he would always be with me.

Because we had a connection stronger than the bonds that hold the universe together.

We had love. My father loved me. And I loved him, even though he was gone. I loved him 3,000.

—

In the days, months, and years that followed, I remembered that encounter. I remembered that I forgave my dad, even though he wasn't there anymore.

I remembered when I held my nephew for the first time.

I remembered when I tinkered in his workshop.

I remembered when I graduated from high school.

I remembered when I went off to MIT to follow in his footsteps.

I remembered on my wedding day when Peter gave me away instead of him and Happy and Rhodey danced with me instead of him.

I remembered when I named my first son after him.

But I more than just remembered him. I loved him. 3,000.

—

**A/N: This is my first ever fanfiction. I had no idea if anybody would be interested in reading my work. This was a great morale boost in so many ways! Thank you so much to everyone who read my story! You are amazing and I will forever be grateful to you! Thank you for welcoming me warmly into the fanfiction community. This will not be my last fanfiction, to say the least. Thank you!**

**Song for the story: "Father" by Demi Lovato**


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